


Take the Wheel

by Radiday



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-15 19:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15419973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Radiday/pseuds/Radiday
Summary: Fred's always done everything for everyone else. He's going to have to learn how to give up the reins- the hard way.





	1. Chapter 1

Archie hadn’t planned a trip home during lunch, but the way his dad looked earlier that morning had him worried. 

Fred hadn’t been feeling well all week, first pushing it off as not sleeping well, and then “just coming down with something” when it didn’t get better. 

Archie had awoken this morning to find breakfast waiting on the counter, while Fred was still in his bathrobe and pajamas, fast asleep under a blanket on the couch. '

The sight was enough to be alarming. Fred never slept in, certainly not during the week, and he was always dressed and ready to go by the time Archie came downstairs. 

He’d managed to shake his dad awake, who coughed into the blanket before groaning. 

“That bad?” Archie asked.

Fred nodded weakly into the pillow. “I thought it was out of my system,” he rasped, “but I guess not.”

“You’re not going to work today, are you?”

Fred shook his head into the pillow. “No, actually, could you call Mike for me?” Fred slurs through half-open eyes, referring to his foreman. “Tell him I won’t be in today.”

Archie nodded, trying not to show his concern to his father. “Sure,” he said, taking Fred’s phone off the coffee table.

Fred was not as easy to wake this afternoon. “Dad?” Archie called out, entering the living room. Fred didn’t even shift, but as Archie got closer he could see a sheen of sweat on his father’s face. 

He still felt the worry bubble inside of him. Archie had come home from school with Veronica yesterday to find Fred in an old Riverdale Baseball sweatshirt and thick wool socks accompanying his jeans. Up until then, Fred had said that he was feeling better, but one look at him that afternoon let Archie know that whatever he’d been fighting that week had come back with a vengeance.

‘Are you alright, Mr. A?’ Veronica had asked. It wasn’t summer yet, but the it was a comfortable spring afternoon, certainly not sweatshirt and wool sock weather. 

Fred had nodded, looking at them with red-rimmed eyes and shaking hands. ‘You guys aren’t cold?’ he asked, voice strained. 

Archie shook his head while Veronica reached for Fred’s forehead. ‘I think you’ve got a fever, Mr. Andrews.’

‘I thought you were feeling better, Dad,’ Archie chimed in. 

Fred gently swatted Veronica’s hand away. ‘I was.’ He paused to cough harshly into his elbow. ‘I’ll be fine. I think I just need some sleep. You guys will be alright?’

Archie and Veronica nodded, concern evident on both their faces. ‘Maybe we should take you to a doctor?’ Veronica suggested gently. 

Fred shook his head in the midst of another coughing fit. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he choked out. ‘There’s money on the counter for pizza or something,’ he said when he was finally finished coughing. ‘I’m just going to go to bed.’

‘Just let us know if you need anything,’ Archie supplied as Fred started up the stairs. 

Fred nodded. ‘ ‘Night, son. Goodnight, Veronica,’ he said through a cough. 

Neither teenager mentioned that it was only 5 pm. 

Archie’s brought back to the present by his father’s shallow breathing. He calls out again to no response. Finally, on the third attempt, Fred’s eyes fly open. He gasps for breath and reaches for Archie’s hand from his position laying down on the couch. 

“Hot,” he chokes, his mouth dry, eyes glazed over and unfocused. 

Archie takes his hand and finds it hot to the touch. “Dad, Dad, can you get up for me?”

Fred doesn’t, but continues mumbling in his fevered, delirious state. “ ‘M hot, dad,” he says, his voice raspy. 

Archie panics begins wildly looking around the living room for a phone. “It’s me, dad. It’s Archie.” 

Even through Fred’s delirium, there’s enough sense in him to know that something’s not right. With every ounce of strength and sanity he has left, he rasps, “Help.”

That’s enough for Archie to enter full on panic mode. He tries to get Fred to sit up, but his dead weight is too much for Archie to lift by himself. 

He finds his phone in his pocket and dials Mrs. Cooper, ignoring several text messages from his friends asking where he is. 

Alice doesn’t pick up. Archie runs a nervous hand through his hair while he runs through a list of people he can call and finally settles on FP Jones. It picks up after one ring. 

“Hello?”

“Mr. Jones, it’s Archie. I need your help. There’s something wrong with my dad.” There’s no time for small talk. 

“Woah, hey, slow down, kid,” FP’s voice becomes gentler. “What’s wrong with your dad?”

“He’s been sick all week,” Archie says, his voice strained with fear. “I thought he was getting better but I came home to check on him just now and he’s got a fever and he’s really out of it. He called me dad. I called Mrs. Cooper but she didn’t pick up and I don’t know what to do.”

“Alright, okay, kid. Listen to me, okay? I’m on my way over there now. Is there thermometer around?”

Archie looks around the room frantically before finding one on the coffee table. “Yeah.”

“Try to take his temperature, okay?”

Archie quickly puts the phone on speaker and balances it on the arm of the couch before jostling his father. “Dad, open your mouth for me.”

Fred doesn’t, but just lolls his head. 

“He won’t open his mouth!” Archie yells at the phone. 

“Just open his mouth and stick it in there!”

Archie hesitates before doing what he’s told. He waits for the beeping and his stomach drops when he sees the number. 

“104.8!” He yells to FP. 

“Shit,” FP says quietly, too quickly to stop himself for Archie’s sake. 

“That’s really high, isn’t it? Like really bad?” FP swears he hears tears in Archie’s voice. 

“Yeah, it is. Go get a washcloth and run it under cold water and put it the back of his neck! I’m almost there, Archie. We’ll get your dad to the hospital. Just hang tight.” 

Archie does, sliding the washcloth under Fred’s head and wondering how this could even be happening in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

Five days ago: 

Fred had awoken five days prior and knew that something was off. He hauled himself out of bed and carried on with his morning routine, but his head was pounding all he wanted to do was sit down. 

Archie had come downstairs to find Fred leaning with his arms propped up on the sink, head sagging. 

“You okay, Dad?” 

Fred jumped, but attempted to collect himself. “Hm? Oh yeah, fine, just tired.”

Archie raised his eyebrows. “You sure?”

Fred nodded. “Yeah, just didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”

Archie poured himself a glass of orange juice and gestured to another glass, silently asking his father if he wanted some. Fred shook his head. “Something keeping you up?” Archie tried to ask nonchalantly. 

Fred shrugged. “Just couldn’t get comfortable.”

He had managed to make it through his work day with the help of a few Advil, but by the time he returned home, he’d developed a cough and felt the congestion settle into his sinuses. 

If Archie noticed, he didn’t say anything. Fred was grateful to make it through the evening without having to be asked about how he felt. 

He’d dug through the medicine cabinet and breathed a sigh of relief to find that they’d still had some from the last time Archie got sick. 

It knocked him out cold for the night but did nothing else based on how bad he felt in the morning. 

He’d woken up to the shrill alarm clock reading 5:30 with his mouth open and unable to breathe through his nose. 

He carried on with his normal morning routine, stopping every once in a while, to scrub his face with his hands or cough into his elbow. 

Archie came downstairs to the sound of coughing and confirmed his suspicions. “You don’t look so good.”

Fred wiped at his nose with the tissue crumpled in his hands. “I’m fine,” he said, but it came out garbled and congested. 

“Fide?” Archie joked with a playful smile before growing more serious. “Seriously, dad, maybe you should take the day off. 

Fred swiped at his nose again, giving a weak laugh. “It’s just a cold, son. Besides, we got a big contract starting today. Can’t afford to miss.” He coughs again, interrupting his train of thought. 

The microwave beeps, reminding Fred of the tea he’d made this morning in lieu of his usual coffee. 

Archie watches as his dad pours the tea from the mug to a travel thermos. “Just promise me you’ll take it easy, okay? You don’t have to do all the work. That’s what the crew is for.”

Fred sniffed and nodded. “I promise, son. Don’t worry about me. You just focus on that biology test you got today, alright?”

Archie smiled. “Wait, how did you know about that test?”

__

Fred’s men had kept just as keen of an eye on their boss as Archie did. He had called them in for their weekly meeting, but felt muddled and foggy, which became quickly evident to the crew. 

“Maybe you should go home, boss. You don’t sound so good.” 

Fred sneezed into his elbow before leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m just a little under the weather,” he said with is eyes closed. He sat up and attempted some semblance of authority. “You guys good on everything? Anything we need to go over again?”

“Nah, boss, we got it. If you’re not gonna go home just stay here and try and get some rest. We’ll come get you if we need you.”

Fred nodded, hands folded together and propped under his chin. “Thanks,” he whispered. 

He ended up staying later than expected. Investors in the new project had stopped by, none of which had commented on his appearance. He was grateful for that, but the extra two hours of his day had left him completely exhausted. He took a minute to clear his sinuses and gather his things before taking a deep breath and heading to his truck. 

Archie was working on homework at the kitchen island when he arrived home. He took one look at his father and knew that he must be feeling awful, making his afternoon endeavors all the worthier. 

“I made soup,” Archie said, greeting his father. 

Fred was on his knees, greeting Vegas. “You made soup? You mean you put a can of soup in the microwave?” he played with what little energy he had. 

“No, dad,” Archie said, rolling his eyes. “I made it. I asked Betty’s mom for the recipe. I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I thought this might help.”

Fred coughed. “Thank you, son. I appreciate that.” 

Archie watched as his father spooned some soup from the pot on the stove into a bowl and took a sip. “Any good?” he asked. 

Fred nodded, letting the warm liquid sit in his mouth before relieving his raw throat. “That’s great, son. Remind me to get sick more often if this is what I get to look forward to,” he finished with a laugh that turned into a cough. 

Archie smiled, but was still concerned. “You sure you’re alright?” 

Fred managed a believable smile. “I’m sure. I just need some sleep. You’re alright to lock up down here?”

“Sure, dad, I got it.”  
__

By the end third day, the congestion was gone but the nagging cough remained. It wasn’t enough to make him stay home, but it was enough to annoy him. 

“At least you don’t feel so bad anymore,” Archie chimed in that night. 

Fred nodded as a coughed into his arm, setting the pizza they’d ordered on the dining room table. 

The cough kept Fred up most of the night. He made a mental note to pick up some cough medicine the next day and also to cough quieter, so as not to wake up Archie. 

But then day four had brought the fever and chills, and day five had brought… whatever this was. 

Archie glanced at his father, who was still incoherent and sweaty on the couch, when the doorbell rang. 

FP Jones entered with a sense of efficiency that Archie didn’t know he had. He wasn’t sure FP had even taken care of his children when they were sick. 

“Listen Archie,” he said, skipping the greeting. “We gotta get your dad to the hospital.” 

Archie nodded, and followed FP’s lead in hoisting Fred up. “We could’ve just called an ambulance.”

FP, who was now balancing Fred’s dead weight in his arms, shook his head. “Those things cost money. Your dad wouldn’t have liked that.” FP knew that Fred was still reeling over the $86,000 hospital bill after his shooting, even if it had been paid off. The last thing he needed were more expenses. 

“You get the keys to the truck, I’ll get him outside,” FP directed. 

While FP didn’t express it, the way he drove Fred’s truck reminded Archie a lot of when he drive the truck, his father bleeding out in the passenger seat. Fast and panicked without a second thought about anything that got in his way. 

He closed his eyes and held on for dear life.


	3. Chapter 3

They got Fred into the ER, FP using his Serpent demeanor to get the front desk staff the see the urgency of the situation. They were quickly led to a curtained off room, the nurse greeting them shortly after. 

Archie explained the situation to her, that Fred had been sick all week, but it was just a cold until yesterday. That he came home half an hour ago to find Fred delirious. 

The nurse ran the thermometer across Fred’s forehead, eyes widening as she read the number. “I’ll be right back,” she said quickly, trying not to run out of the room. 

She returned a minute later with the doctor, who introduced himself quickly as “Dr. Anderson,” before putting a stethoscope to Fred’s chest. He listened for what felt like ages before finally tossing the instrument across his neck. 

“Get a chest x-ray, stat. And lets’ get this fever down,” he directed to the nurse, who nodded and took down the medication orders the doctor requested before leaving the room, again in a hurry. 

“What’s wrong with him?” FP asked, a bit too harshly. 

Dr. Anderson eyed FP and hesitated, before saying, “We can only discuss Mr. Andrews’ condition with family.”

“I’m his son,” Archie supplied quickly. “That’s my uncle,” he said, gesturing to FP. 

The doctor looked from Archie to FP, nodding slowly. “Well, from the crackling in his chest, I’d say there’s a pretty nasty pneumonia infection in his right lung. It was a little difficult to hear if it was in the left lung as well, but a chest x-ray will let us know.”

“So, this is pneumonia, then?” FP asked, trying purposefully to make his voice sound gentler. 

“I think so, but we won’t know for sure until the results of the x-ray come back. You said he’d been sick all week?” he directed at Archie. 

Archie nodded. “Yeah, it was just a regular cold until like two days ago. That’s when he started coughing pretty bad. And he’s had a fever since yesterday.”

“It’s likely that what started out as the common cold traveled down into his chest and became pneumonia. We’ll know how severe it is when we get the x-ray results.”

“Why was he so out of though?” Archie asked. 

“His fever was well above 104, which is about when people start to get delirious. It’s a good thing you brought him in when you did. If his fever had gotten any higher, he would’ve been at serious risk for brain damage.”

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Archie asked, heart pounding. His father had just been in the hospital three months ago, thanks to the Black Hood. He was starting to wonder if Fred would ever catch a break. 

“I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery. He might need to be admitted for a few days, depending on the results, but we can talk about that later. Right now,” the doctor nodded to the techs who had just entered the room, “these guys will take your dad for his x-ray. You’re more than welcome to wait here, it should only be about 15 minutes.” 

The techs bring Fred back as quickly as they took him, readjusting the IV and arranging the bed back in its spot. They leave with little acknowledgement of Archie and FP, which makes FP’s already elevated anger rise even more. 

He clenches a fist but doesn’t say anything. 

Fred shifts in the bed next to him, causing both Archie and FP to jump. 

“Hey,” Fred rasps. His voice is barely there but he reaches out for FP, who clasps Fred’s hand in his. 

“Hey, buddy,” FP says, voice soft and soothing. “How you feeling? The doctors gave you some good meds, you should be feeling better soon.”

“We gotta,” Fred slurs, head lolling to look at FP. “We gotta help mom and dad.”

“What, Freddy?” FP asks, brows furrowed, leaning in closer. 

“We gotta help ‘em. Who’s gonna help mom if dad doesn’t get better, Ozzie?”

Ozzie… Oz… shit. 

Oscar. FP’s eyes widened. “Hey, hey, Freddy. It’s me. It’s FP. And Archie. Archie’s right here.” FP pointed to Archie, who had moved to the other side of the bed, opposite FP. “Look,” FP continued, desperate for Fred to see who was really in front of him. “That’s your boy,” FP says, trying to move Fred’s head with his had to look at Archie. 

Fred doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Oscar, listen to me. We gotta step up, man. No more fuckin’ around, okay? We gotta help them.”

FP stays silent, begging himself to find the right words. 

“Promise me, Oscar.”

FP still hasn’t found the right words, so he settles for, “I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

I’m guessing neither one of you is Oscar.” 

Dr. Anderson’s voice shocks Archie and FP, neither of whom heard him come in. 

“Oscar’s dead,” FP says curtly, reluctant to give out any unnecessary information. 

The doctor nods. “I got a good look at the x-ray. Good news is, there’s no infection in the left lung. The bad news is, the right lung’s got a severe infection.” 

They’re interrupted by a deep, wheezing cough from Fred. 

Dr. Anderson continues. “We’re going to admit him and start him on breathing treatments and oxygen to clear up the wheezing, and the antibiotics to .”clear up the infection and bring his fever down.”

“I mean, how long will that take? How long til he’s not delirious anymore?”

“That’s our first priority,” Dr. Anderson nods. “The saline should help with the dehydration for the fever along with the antibiotics. I’d expect him to be in a clearer state of mind in four to five hours.”

The nurse enters, nodding to Archie and FP. “We’re just going to put this mask on to help him breathe. His oxygen’s a little low,” she says gently, securing the mask around Fred’s mouth and nose. 

“We’re going to move him up to the fourth floor. Go on up to the waiting room there. Once he’s settled you’re both welcome to sit with him,” Dr. Anderson says, shaking their hands. “Dr. Curtis up in pulmonary is going to take care of him. He knows you’re coming,” he says before leaving the room. 

The nurse wheels Fred out behind him, leaving Archie and FP in an awkward silence. 

“I didn’t realize he was that sick,” Archie says to him shoes. 

“Pneumonia comes out of nowhere, kid. You heard the doctor, Fred’s gonna be fine.” He has to be.

“You think I should call my mom?” 

FP claps a hand over Archie’s shoulder. “I’d give it a few hours. Let your dad get his bearings then you can both call her together.” 

By the time they get to Fred’s room, a private room only slightly smaller than the one he’d had when he’d been shot, the nurse had already set him up with his an oxygen mask.

FP looks around the room and has to stop himself from scoffing, because he knows when Fred comes to the first thing he’s going to say is that he can’t afford a private room again. 

FP doesn’t know it, but Archie’s thinking the same thing. 

Fred remains in a fitful sleep during the entire treatment, and FP and Archie remain in an equally restless silence as they watch the mask cloud and then clear up with every breath. 

“You don’t have to stay here,” Archie says suddenly, tearing his eyes off his father for a minute to look at FP. 

FP opens his mouth to speak, but Archie keeps going. “I mean, you’ve probably got better things to do. I’ll be fine. I’ll tell Dad you were here, he’ll really appreciate it.”

FP leans back in his chair, crossing his legs at the ankles, making a display of making himself comfortable. “Nah,” he says, intertwining his fingers behind his hands. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay. We should probably call Jug too.” 

Archie nods. The truth is, he wants FP to stay. FP Jones may not be the most put together adult, but his presence made Archie feel at ease. Like there was someone here who knew what he was doing. 

Even if they both knew that wasn’t true.

Fred shifts and lazily tries to pull the mask on. Archie reaches over and takes his hand, causing him to open his eyes. 

He glances around the room, looking but not seeing, before settling his wobbly gaze on FP once again. 

“FP,” Fred rasps so quietly FP swears he’s hearing things. 

“Hey. Hey, buddy. Welcome back.” 

“FP,” Fred repeats, trying again to take the mask off. 

FP puts a hand out to stop him. “No, no. Leave that on.” 

Fred looks lazily at Archie, lulling his head between his son and friend, fighting FP to take the mask off and winning. 

FP wonders where he got the strength. 

“Oscar,” Fred slurs, settling his gaze on FP again. 

Shit, FP thinks, not again. 

He makes a quick glance at the clock to see that it had only been an hour since they’d talked to the doctor in the ER. They still have three or four more hours to go before Fred would come to. 

Separately, FP and Archie both desperately wanted Fred to come to his senses. More than being sick, Fred being delirious was the most frightening. Fred had a reputation as the sensible one, the level headed one who always kept his cool and thought practically. For the two men that relied on him the most throughout their lives, losing that part of Fred, even temporarily, was unfathomable.

“Oscar,” Fred says again. “Please, don’t do it.” Fred pauses to take a breath. 

“What, Freddy?” FP leans in close, as Fred’s speech is slurred and low. 

“It’s dangerous, Ozzie. FP told me what they do.” 

Archie’s eyes shoot up to look at FP at the mention of his name.” 

“Who does?” Archie asks before he can stop himself. 

Fred doesn’t seem to notice that the voice came from a different body. “Please. You don’t need more family. I’m your family.” 

FP thinks that if Fred had the strength, he would cry. It’s what he did when he and Oscar had this conversation in real life, years ago. He remembers walking in in the middle of it. 

Archie continues to stare at FP, eyes demanding an explanation. 

“They kill people,” Fred mutters. 

FP looks nervously at Archie, watching realization wash over his face. 

“Please, Fred pleads, squeezing FP’s hand loosely. “Don’t join the Serpents.”

FP looks away, heart sinking at the confession. He knew Fred had done everything in his power to keep his brother’s past from Archie. 

Archie’s eyes widen. FP sees his clench his jaw as the realization becomes a reality. 

Oscar Andrews was a Serpent.


	5. Chapter 5

Fred drifts off after a few harsh coughs that sound like they hurt. FP tries his best to avoid Archie’s gaze, as it’s hurt and confused and all too childlike for him to handle. He curses Fred internally for reopening this can of worms. For dredging up the past. For getting sick and leaving FP in charge in the first place. 

“Oscar was a serpent?” He hears Archie ask quietly. 

FP doesn’t meet his gaze. “Kid, this is really something you should talk to your old man about.”

“Well I can’t really ask him now, can I?” Archie bites back. He immediately shrinks back, instantly regretting his outburst. He doesn’t want to upset the one support he’s got right now. He looks at FP apologetically. 

FP takes a deep breath. “Yeah, your uncle was a Serpent. But that’s all I’m gonna tell you until I get the okay from your dad. I’m sorry, kid, but he made that abundantly clear.”

“Who made what abundantly clear?” 

Archie and FP turn to see Jughead leaning against the door, Betty and Veronica right behind him.”

“Nothing, boy,” FP mumbles. 

“We came as soon as we could. What did the doctor say?” Betty says, getting straight to the point. She tries not to think that if feels like they all were just here yesterday.

Archie fills his friends in on Fred’s care, all the while Jughead continues to eye his father and his best friend, certain that there was more to the conversation they’d been having. 

The five sit in silence before FP decides he needs to step up and fill the adult role. He’s never really felt like an adult. He wonders if Fred does, or if he’s just really good at pretending. “You kids should go get something to eat. I’ve got a twenty,” he says. He can’t help but think that such a simple sentence sounds so very Fred-like. 

“No, thanks,” Archie says quickly. 

His friends share a look. “Now, Archikens, I know you want to stay here with your dad, but there’s nothing you can do here right now.”

“Yeah, Arch. Besides, my Dad’ll stay here, won’t you, Dad?” Jughead adds. 

FP nods. “Yeah, kid. I won’t leave his side.” He makes a show of settling into his seat. 

Archie looks from person to person. He suddenly realizes he’s hungry. It’s no surprise given that he skipped lunch. He just never expected he’d end up at the hospital. 

He nods finally. “Yeah, okay. But just something quick.” 

Veronica links her arm with her boyfriend’s. “I know the perfect small town diner. You may have heard of it. Best milkshakes in town,” she jokes as she leads him out of the room.

FP watches the kids leave, looking fully at Fred for the first time since they’d brought him to the hospital. 

His face is pale, a stark contrast to his red cheeks from the fever. His eyes, even though closed, are clearly red-rimmed. The oxygen mask sits covering his mouth and nose, fogging and clearing with each breath. 

FP settles his gaze on Fred’s chest, watching it rise and fall with occasional interruption by deep, jagged coughing. 

He had just dozed off when he hears Fred stir. 

He coughs first, wheezing into the mask. FP kicks himself for not asking if he could give him water. 

Fred reaches out for FP and FP feels his heart beating inside his chest as he prepares to be Oscar Andrews yet again. 

“FP,” Fred wheezes. 

FP can’t help but smile. “Freddy.”

“‘M hot,” Fred slurs. 

FP wets a paper towel in the pitcher of water at Fred’s bedside and dabs it across his forehead. “I know, buddy. You’ll feel much better soon, I promise.” 

Fred coughs again, nuzzling his head against the arm FP’s got teaching for his forehead. “‘S bad.”

“Yeah, Freddy, it’s bad. But only for a little while. You’re gonna be okay.”

“Archie,” Fred starts, but is cut off again by coughing. 

“Archie’s fine. Jug and Betty and Veronica took his to Pop’s for something to ear.”

Based on Fred’s unstable gaze, FP’s not sure how much of what he’s saying is making sense to Fred. But he says it anyways. 

Besides, Fred asking about Archie is a good sign. A sign that Fred’s coming to. That the delirious, younger Fred is going away where he belongs and the 45-year-old father who’s only concern is his son is returning to his rightful place. 

Fred lulls his head again and goes quiet for a minute, eyes open but unfocused. 

“FP,” he rasps finally. 

“Yeah, Freddy?”

“You gotta talk to Oscar.”

FP feels his heart sink. Just when he thought Fred was coming back to him…

“I’ll try, buddy,” FP says gently, willing Fred to just go back to sleep. 

That’s not what FP had said the first time Fred had asked him to look after Oscar. His response back then had been something along the lines of ‘fuck you, Fred. We’ve got Ozzie’s back more than you do.’

“Please,” Fred pleads in his delirium. “He fucked up. Pissed off the Ghoulies. Stole those drugs. Please.”

FP rubs his thumb up and down Fred’s hand. “Don’t worry, Freddy. Just go to sleep. It’ll all be okay.”

“No, FP, you gotta.” He sounds like a child. “He’s in trouble. They’re gonna kill him.”

‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ FP had spit out back then. ‘He’ll be fine. You worry about yourself and leave us alone.’

This time, he opens his mouth and no words come out. 

“Mom doesn’t even know he’s a Serpent. She can’t handle another death,” Fred says when FP doesn’t say anything. “Please, FP.”

“Nobody’s dying, Freddy. I promise.” FP swallows bile. He doesn’t want to go here. He doesn’t want to relive this nightmare. 

“They’re gonna kill him,” Fred slurs again, this time drifting off before he can get the whole sentence out. 

‘No they won’t, Fred! We’ve got it under control! Just let it go!’ FP can hear his younger self say. 

If only he knew then what he knew now.


End file.
